


Easy Bake Christmas

by boheme06 (bohemu)



Category: Psych
Genre: Gen, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:05:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3250751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bohemu/pseuds/boheme06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn tries, and fails, at Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy Bake Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vampira34](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=vampira34).



> This one basically expanded from that a comment thread over at vampira34's journal about Shawn's cooking skills, and loosely, loosely based on Pieces of April.

The Christmas lights hung lazily off the molding near the ceiling, and threatened to pull away from the mounds of scotch tape holding them up. A few feet below them, lounging at his desk, Shawn Spencer lay sleeping. Feet up on the desk, he'd fallen asleep in the middle of a video game level. The device lay on his stomach, still clenched between his fingers. A pineapple sat a few inches from his sleeping computer monitor, decorated like a Christmas tree. It was a quiet day. A productive day for Shawn Spencer.

Gus burst through the door loud and fast as he usually did whenever he was agitated. Shawn startled awake, and jumped to attention, as was his usual reaction.

"What? Gus, you see I'm sleeping here. Why do you have to come in and ruin my perfectly good dream with ten Victoria Secret models?"

"No, Shawn. There were no models in that dream. You were stuck in another level of that game you play all day long, and you had some dream of how you'd somehow get out of it-- using methods not available in the context of the actual game."

"Dude, what, are you psychic now?"

"No, I just hear every damn mumble you utter while I'm sitting across the room trying to do my route."

"Well, excuse me for trying to rest my body and mind for a few moments so that we can continue paying your bills."

"I pay my bills just fine without all of this here, Shawn. Anyway, here." Gus shoved a brightly wrapped gift into Shawn's chest. "Merry Christmas," he mumbled and stomped over to his desk.

Shawn looked down at the shiny paper. He was always an easily amused person, and Christmas wrapping was no exception to this rule. Shawn stared at his smeared reflection in the gold paper and made a few faces.

"I thought we said we'd exchange gifts down at the precinct with the rest of the department? I mean, thank you, but uh... Gus?"

"I have to do my route Shawn." Gus woke his laptop from its sleep and starting typing loudly. "On top of all the casework we have for that Thanksgiving murder down on Mulberry."

"Gus, I..." Shawn started. Gus's fingers stopped in mid-stroke. The super-smeller was on duty.

"What is that smell, Shawn?" Gus sniffed the air a few more times. "It smells like burnt plastic, burnt... meat? Shawn, were you cooking something in the kitchenette?"

"What? Meat? I... oh, no. Gus, our Christmas feast!" Shawn dashed into the kitchenette of the Psych offices, leaving Gus bewildered at his desk.

"Our what now?" Gus jumped up and followed after Shawn.

Sure enough, Shawn's small Easy-Bake oven was slowing folding onto itself, having melted from the heat of the large bulb Shawn had used to speed up the meal.

"That was our..." Shawn poked and prodded the mess to reveal a half-baked chicken leg among the molten plastic.

"You baked a chicken leg in an Easy Bake oven? And that was supposed to feed both of us? On Christmas?" Gus stared at the bubbling oven. Shawn's face fell.

"No, Gus," Shawn's tone was hurt. He gave a look at Gus and said, "What, are you Scrooge now? Dude, it's supposed to be all about the spirit!" Shawn hung his head in dismay and sighed. The plastic gurgled and popped over the chicken once more.

"Merry Christmas, Gus."


End file.
